


On the Wings of an Eagle

by halfeatenmoon



Category: Digimon
Genre: Canon Compliant, Early Work, Gen, POV First Person, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-04-20
Updated: 2002-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfeatenmoon/pseuds/halfeatenmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sora leaves her job after Yamato dies and her two children, now grown up, move away. As she starts a new chapter of her life, she tries to patch up the friendships she broke long ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wings of an Eagle

With a warm cup of tea in my hands I sat on the front step of our little country house _My little country house,_ I reminded myself. I had no children to look after any more. No digimon always needing to be fed. No Yamato to love me.

I was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans that probably hadn't seen sunlight for years. Since I'd joined the fashion business nearly thirty years ago I'd rarely worn anything besides business suits and kimonos. Well, I was through with all that. No more high heels for me.

This was the first day of my new life. I'd quit my job, and there were others who could carry the business on. I didn't need to work any more. Since my two children had grown up and moved away Yamato and I had moved out of the city and lived here, by the forest on our own. He had retired so I kept on working to bring in what little money we needed for a middle-aged couple and a Gabumon.

Although Yamato had had enough extra-terrestrial adventures he was asked to leave earth again just a few months ago. Right after my birthday, actually. There was going to be another trip to Mars and since Yamato had been there before his former employers asked him to go along and lend a hand. But this little educational mission ended up being his last. My beloved Yamato died millions of miles from earth, where no-one would ever find his body. I didn't even know he was in danger until I found Gabumon's body in the laundry. Is it any wonder I didn't want to be a fashion designer any more?

Did I ever want to be a fashion designer? It was seen as one of the most 'feminine' career choices anybody would make. So how did a red-headed tomboy, who enjoyed fighting evil digimon as much as she did playing soccer, end up with flowers and a fashion studio?

Because it's what everyone else thought should happen I suppose. When Myotismon first invaded Odaiba my mother and I really realised how much we loved each other, but it wasn't until a year or two later that we stopped fighting. Because I changed from Sora Takenouchi to Mrs. Takenouchi's daughter. I was the daughter she wanted me to be, and not the tomboy I loved being.

That was the story of my life from then on. I was what other people wanted me to be. I basically lived for everyone else. I was my mother's daughter, Taichi's team-mate, Mimi's friend, Yamato's girlfriend and Miyako's mentor. And somewhere along the line, while trying to please everyone else I stopped playing soccer and took up tennis. I t wasn't as dangerous as soccer. I didn't get nearly so many cuts and bruises and I certainly didn't come home plastered in mud from head to foot. Eventually even tennis gave way to _ikebana,_ flower arranging. That pleased my mother no end. But I suppose it didn't really please me.

I gave up who I was to become what she wanted me to be. How could I have been so foolish as to give up the soccer-playing tomboy I loved to be? Sora Takenouchi, what happened to you? I became Sora Ishida, I guess, but changing my name didn't mean I had to be any different. The changes had already been made. I'd changed my name back now, back to Takenouchi. I didn't want to be branded as Yamato's wife forever.

Would changing my name back be enough, though? I have heard so many times that you can't teach an old dog new tricks. I'm not _really_ that old, though, although I'm sure many people would call me a dog. It wouldn't be learning new tricks, either, just old ones that I've begun to forget.

I finished off the last of my tea and placed the cup carefully on the step. I wanted to walk through the forest for a bit. My mother never really liked letting me outdoors, but then she didn't like going outdoors herself. Not that it mattered, I could do anything I wanted with my life now. My mother died several years ago. I didn't have to be her daughter any more. I could be me.

It was a cool morning. Summer had only just finished but winter was winging its way around to us pretty quickly. The leaves on many of the trees were already losing their bright greens and changing to autumn's brown, gold and deep, deep red. Sometimes the trees look like they're on fire, the leaves are so bright. I can hear a bird calling to another somewhere out of sight. I wonder if it's going to take to the air and go looking for the friend it's searching for. It's been a long time since I last flew.

Before I know what I'm doing I grab the branch of the nearest tree and hoist myself up. One branch after another. Goodness, Takenouchi, you're over fifty years old and you finally decide to climb a tree again. It feels good, though, to stretch my muscles and work my body to make it do what I want. The world of fashion isn't a very athletic one. Pretty soon I'm at the top of this tree, staring up at the overcast sky. There's a bird up there, an eagle, perhaps. I never saw many birds back in the city, and certainly none with the grace and power of an eagle. It's flown far above me, just riding the breeze. Not like Biyomon used to fly.

 _Biyomon._ Funny that I should think of her now. It's been a long time since I last saw her. It was during one of those periods when I was very unhappy that she left. I was worried about work, the children and Yamato, who was sick; one day I just snapped. I got really annoyed with Biyomon and said a lot of thigs I didn't really mean and I know she did too. It was wrong to take my worries out on her but there I had gotten so sick of everything that I didn't really care. Biyomon took it all pretty hard and just left and never came back. I should of gone after her, I should have known it would be impossible to track her down. I think I did know, somewhere inside me. Still, I let her go, and I haven't seen her since.

I wonder where you are now, Biyomon. Do you live your life just as you did before we met, just going on without me? Do you ever get lost without me to help you? Do you wonder what happened to me?

And if I called you, Biyomon, if I was in trouble and called for you, would you answer?

Perhaps that's what I'll do, now that I'm free of my family and my responsibilities. I could look for Biyomon. Find her, tell her how sorry I am. I'd never thought about this before, what I would do every day now that I've no job and no family. Where are you, Biyomon, when I need you the most?

The faintest of sounds, a little electronic bleep, interrupts my thoughts. I shift my weight on the tree branch and I can feel something in my back pocket pressing against my skin. Awkwardly I wriggle around and manage to slip my fingers through the denim and feel them close around something hard, but the shape so familiar I suddenly feel a rush of memories threatening to overcome me.

I pulled the digivice out of my pocket. I had lost it after Biyomon went away. So it had been here all the time, sitting in the pocket of my old blue jeans, one last vestige of the real Sora Takenouchi. And of Biyomon. I peer closer. Why is it flashing at me? Why is it making these noises I haven't heard for so long? And why do I feel so happy about it..?

"Because you always knew I'd come back." says Biyomon, standing on the end of the branch. I'd been so preoccupied I hadn't heard her land. Her voice is deeper than I remember. A sign of age, perhaps.

"I'm sorry, Biyo." I whisper.

"I know. You weren't yourself that day, and neither was I." she shrugged and moved closer to me.

"I haven't been myself for a long time, Biyomon."

"I know that. I think... I think that's one of the reasons I left. You were so... pretentious. You were trying to be everything to everyone, but you stopped being Sora. And I didn't like this stranger you'd become, I liked my old friend Sora." she looked at her clawed feet, a little embarrassed. "I guess it would have been better if I'd told you, huh."

"Maybe. But you're right, I was trying so hard to please everyone else I started to forget what really mattered. It's just a pity I only realised until today." I sighed, a little dramatically. "I've no family any more and my friends are all elsewhere, I'm over fifty years old and I finally realise where I went wrong."

"That doesn't matter, Sora!" Biyomon looked up at me, her eyes shining. "I'm here. We can be together. You don't have to live for other people any more. You can be Sora Takenouchi all the time."

I could feel a smile spreading across my face, just a little one at first, but it broke into a huge grin. "Yes, I can and I will. Why don't we go for a ride, Biyo? It's been such a very long time since I last went flying."

I looked at the digivice in my hand. I held it out in that familiar grip like I had done so many times before, all those battles I'd fought and won. _That we'd won._ I wasn't on my own any more. So for the first time in over thirty years I became the real me, the tomboy.

"Digivolve!"

Biyomon leaped into the air, spread her wings and laughed as the power flowed from me through the digivice and to her. She was glowing now, and looking positively radiant. "Biyomon, digivolve to..." The light was growing stronger, spreading outwards, until that familiar form broke through her shell.

"Birdramon!" I finished for her. The old bird had never looked so beautiful.

"Come on, my friend." Birdramon said, with her toothy smile. "I'd better help you out of that tree, you're getting a bit old for that sort of thing."

"Don't you worry, Birdramon," I grinned, "I've got plenty of life to live yet." So I leapt off the tree and gripped the feathers on her back. And once more I was flying.

It was an overcast morning when I stepped out of the house today, ready to start the rest of my life. Not the best day for new beginnings, in most people's books. When you can fly, however, there's no such thing as a cloudy day. Birdramon and I flew right through the gloomy-looking clouds and right up above where there was an endless expanse of blue sky. We were together again, human and digimon, just like before.

Once more I was Sora Takenouchi. I was not my mother's daughter, Yamato's wife, Midori and Toshio's mother or Taichi's friend. I certainly wasn't a fashion designer. I was the girl Biyomon had waited for for so long, the girl she followed and protected and loved without second thought. I was me, just the way I'd always wanted to be. And I promise that I will never be anyone else ever again.


	2. Wings of an Eagle

So this is what it all comes down to. After fighting more digimon that I can remember and travelling through a world I never understood, I've ended up dying on a frontier that is not so strange after all.

I was so proud when I made my first trip to Mars. It didn't go as planned, but it was one new world conquered and everyone was pleased. It sounds so arrogant, saying we 'conquered' this planet. I suppose humans are arrogant when it comes to great achievements. Someone does something remarkable and suddenly we think we run the universe. Well, we've been proved dead wrong once again and the universe has shown us how miniscule humans really are. Yamato Ishida, the man who 'conquered' Mars, is about to die there.

It had seemed a safe enough mission at first. There were three younger astronauts who had been asked to perform a few simple tasks. It was just to understand a little more about the planet's geography. Even though the others could have done it on their own, I was asked to go along too because I'd done it before. The landing, you see, is a little difficult. In a lot of places the surface could be much rougher than it appears from the air. I was supposed to make sure we landed safely.

Yeah, right.

Now the ship is caught in a crevasse, mangled beyond recognition. All four of us know that there is no time for help to arrive. We won't be able to get back to Earth – not alive, anyway. I did manage to get one last transmission back to earth before we moved out of communication range. By the time it comes into range again we'll have stopped talking. Maybe they'll eventually send a search crew to find our bodies.

Ugh. That's just gross. I can just see it all in my mind though, my hair going dull and my skin all pale, eyes gone all glassy...

My imagination is far too vivid for a 54-year-old astronaut. I guess that's the musician in me. I'm musician, even though my musical career crashed less than a year after it had begun. When I think about it, there are plenty of things I'd rather have sung about than just the typical teenage love songs. I mean, I had power then; I could have told people things, important things. All my life I've been so frustrated by others and the way they never understand. I could have used my songs to teach and really made a difference.

I wanted to give people ideas, radical ideas, to shake them out of the mundane confines of society. People said I was a rebel and probably thought that I was shaking people up, opening their minds. But no, that wasn't it. I just did what I was expected to do: be a teenager. Argue with my parents, act like a hoodlum, get screamed at by various girls when I was performing on stage. I wasn't teaching those girls anything. I was a pretty face, that's all.

And yet, I loved performing. I loved getting up on stage and singing my heart out to the audience, even if they were words I didn't believe. Even if half the crowd couldn't hear me because they were screaming so loud. Maybe the lyrics didn't tell anyone what I really wanted to say, but when I sang I wasn't thinking of perfect, innocent, girl/boy romance I got that passion from thinking of what I really wanted to say, hoping that one day I could sing those words too.

Forget what you're told in books and movies. They're not always right. What if everyone _did_ judge things by the way they looked? What if geeks were the happiest people on earth? What if black people _were_ inferior? What if it _wasn't_ such a bad thing to give up hope?

What if love wasn't the answer?

What if love wasn't so wonderful after all? You can't live on love; it won't feed you or pay the rent. What if it didn't solve anything at all? Does love, true love, the stuff that movie characters are all crowing about, even exist?

I wanted people to ask themselves those questions. I wanted them to find their own answers rather than just believing the messages they were fed. I wanted them to ask these questions and make people mad and be able to free other minds, just the way I was trying to free theirs.

I was trying to do that all along; it's why I was an artist, a musician. But to get anywhere I had to first go through the usual 'teen star' routine. By the time the Teenage Wolves had really become a hit I had other band members to think of. We'd been branded as mainstream, teeny-boppers. Nothing extraordinary. Not an in-your-face group who tried to question everything that so many people believed without thought. After all those teen love songs, I certainly couldn't go around asking if love exists at all.

Sometimes I wonder if it was just a big search. Everyone goes through the 'who am I?' phase, but I don't know that I ever found out. It turned into a lifelong search; I kept searching all the way to Mars.

I've never missed home more than I do right now. We're told there are life-forms on Mars, microscopic ones; that's why we were here in the first place. Yet it looks like the most dead place possible. There is nothing but harsh, dull red everywhere I look, at both sides of this tremendous crack. Downwards, though, it gets darker and darker, until I can't see the bottom. Night is coming, I know, but somehow I don't think it's the darkness that's concealing the bottom of the hole.

There are beauties about this place, though. The fascinating rock formations that you come across. The way the thin atmosphere makes the sky look dark, even during the day. And the glorious sunsets and sunrises, our guiding star turning a brilliant blue as it sinks out of sight.

It's good to be here, in a way, although it's sad. I'm a long way from home, but I know I've done something with my life; the proof is right in front of me. I haven't turned hundreds of teenagers into philosophers, haven't taught them to challenge everything put in front of them. I taught Midori and Toshio, though. And in a way, landing on Mars has probably inspired many, many others. I've opened a new door. Opened minds.

I've made a lot of mistakes, though. I brought these three boys to their deaths out here. They blame me for what has happened, even if they don't say it out loud. It doesn't worry me, though. If they need someone to blame, they can dump it on me. We're all going to die anyway.

I stuffed up back on earth, too. I didn't notice things that I should have. Like the way Sora was growing apart from the other digidestined. I still kept in contact with them, Taichi especially. That was particularly ironic, the way I visited Taichi so much. Because meeting him would almost always mean meeting his wife: Motomiya Jun.

But Sora's friendships were falling apart. Ever since Biyomon left she was a different person, shunning contact with the other digidestined. She never really talked to anyone but me - and even that was only in the brief moments she allowed herself to be away from her job. I listened to her and comforted her, but I never did anything else. I should have, though. I should have done something to get her back with her friends. But I didn't, and now she'll be paying the price.

She doesn't deserve to be alone. She understands people better than anyone else I've ever known. If anyone knows who I am, then she does. Right from the day we met in the digital world she had figured out all my problems with Takeru, with my family, with my deep discontent. That's one of the things that made her such a wonderful friend, I suppose: she understands. Hell, _she_ should have been the one with the crest of friendship... but then she wouldn't have had the crest of love. And nothing suits her better than love. She needs somebody to love, though. Someone to love her back.

When Sora first came to me bearing confessions and cookies all those Christmases ago, I thought it was little but another fangirly crush. Granted, she wasn't an obsessive idiot like Jun, but I didn't think it would really amount to anything. I was a little doubtful when she asked me; I mean, I'm Taichi's best friend, I knew he liked her. She told me that it was okay with Taichi, though, and I needed to shake off Jun... hey, it was Christmas. Why not?

But after only a few days with Sora I started noticing things about her I'd never realised before. Just little things, like the way she frowned when she was thinking about something, or the way her hair fell over her face. I found myself talking to her more than ever and realising that she and I had more in common than I had thought before.

She knew what it was like to be alone, even when you're surrounded by people. She knew that frustration. She understood the search to find out who she was. But I had known who she was all along.

Sora was thoughtful, kind and understanding. She was sometimes impatient, but she could control herself. She was a loving person who cared for everyone and everything around her. And she was the girl that I loved.

After knowing Sora, there was no way I could question the existence of love. She loves more than I had ever thought a single person could. What's more, she understands people incredibly well. She knows who I am, even if I don't. She's witnessed so many of my bad days, my mood swings, my moments of despair which few people could watch and still think I was worth the trouble worrying about. She's been through it all and yet she stuck by me.

I do know who I am - I'm someone who Sora, and many others, know all too well. I'm also someone that they love despite that. We may never see each other again, but I'd like to think that she knows I'm happy; that I've found the answer that I knew all along.

I wonder how much longer I've got left before our oxygen. I can't help but think about what I'll look like if anyone comes to look for our bodies. Maybe my skin will be blue from the cold and the lack of oxygen... how horrible. I don't want to be remembered like that. I don't want Sora or my friends or kids or future descendants to remember an image of my corpse, all frozen and shrivelled and blue.

The crevasse is still right there, stretching down into nothingness. What remains of our spaceship is stuck so that I can stare right down into it through this window, on the door. If i could wrench the door open I could just drop right down, falling until I reach the invisible bottom, where no-one would ever find me.

I think I might just do that.

The other astronauts gasp as I rip open the door and slip through the opening, launching myself as far away from the edge of the crack as I can. They probably think I'm mad, doing something like that. Perhaps they're right. Oh well.

That's the sort of person I am. I'd rather die with a crunch than sitting around waiting for sleep to overcome me. I'd rather that my body wasn't found. I'll leap right into its jaws and laugh in its face. I'll leave everything else behind and enjoy this one last moment to be nothing but Yamato Ishida.

Goodbye.


	3. Good Morning Starshine (Biyomon)

I'm not a night creature by nature. My eyes aren't meant to penetrate that darkness that covers us all like a smothering blanket whenever the sun goes down. Flying at night is always difficult, too, for birds rely heavily on their eyesight. The world is a scary place at night, when you can't see anything around you, can't see the night animals that come out to prowl the world, on the ground and in the air. You just sit tight, listening and watching what you can, in awe and in fear of the creatures who live and thrive in the blackness. And eventually, you get to sleep.

That's when you're alone, anyway. But when there's someone to keep you company, it's another story altogether.

Tonight's pretty chilly, although still warm for autumn. You wouldn't want to be staying outside for too long, especially not without a good two layers of clothing. There was no wind, though, for which I was very grateful; in my years of wandering I'd spent all too much time being buffeted by heavy winds. This is a special night in a lot of ways: the air is calm, the temperature's comfortable, I can see the stars.

I'm not afraid.

And most importantly, I'm not alone.

For years and years now I've been lonely. Oh, sure, I saw other people. I sheltered in with friends during the worst of winter's chill, with Palmon or Agumon or Gomamon. Gomamon most of all. I went to him when I was in real trouble - and I don't just mean the weather. Palmon has always been a great friend, but it's Gomamon I went to when I felt that I just couldn't stand things any more.

Despite Sora's and Yamato's union, Gabumon and I had never liked each other a whole lot. It's not like we fought or anything - we just didn't care about each other much. Not like Sora cared about Yamato... or I do about Gomamon. I hadn't spent much time with him before I'd left Sora, but once I was on my own I felt almost drawn to him. Love isn't something that digimon are supposed to think about or worry about; not the way I loved Gomamon, anyway. But I love him all the same.

As much as I loved Goma, though, I could never settle down there with the Kido family. I felt like too much of an outsider in their house. Sora had become estranged from the other digidestined even before Yamato's death; I felt like I was some uncomfortable reminder of her, of the rift that she had put between herself and the others. Besides, it was weird being in a house without her. I don't like to be where I can't see the sky.

So I would take off, again and again, wandering about the wilderness, in search of something that didn't exist, that I couldn't even put a name to, that I knew I'd never find. By day I flew, only stopping to drink or eat what sparse food I could find. At night I would find a tree and hunker down, hemmed in by the unfamiliar darkness. I hated the darkest nights, when the sky would cloud over and there wasn't a speck of light to comfort the irrational fears that filled my head.

On very rare occasions I would find a clear area where there wasn't much I could crash into, and then I would fly in the darkness, with just the stars and sometimes the moon to guide me through. There was something special about that loneliness, the familiarity of flying combined with the unknown and terrifying darkness and the lights and the sky that were so distant, and yet so alive.

The stars are dancing in the sky tonight, as well as a strangely shaped moon. When people think of the moon they usually think of a circle, a semicircle or a think crescent. This was different, somewhere between a half-circle and a full one. It's not shapely or poetic, not the sort of thing you'd want to include in a painting. Yet to me, there is something beautiful about it all the same.

Sora thinks so too. We're sitting on the steps of her house now. Or rather, she's sitting and I'm on her knees, with her arms around my middle. I don't imagine I'm very comfortable to be hugging; all those days out in the wild have made me thinner and hardier than I used to be, but she doesn't seem to care. We just sit there in silence, rejoicing in being together again, under the overwhelming tapestry of stars and an oddly-shaped moon.

We've done a lot of talking today. Now we're finished with words.

I had no idea when I woke up this morning that it was going to be such a wonderful day. I hadn't been anywhere near Sora since Yamato's funeral. I had stayed carefully hidden throughout the entire ceremony, although sometimes it was all I could do to keep myself from leaping out into the open and telling everyone that I was here, alive and well.

At one point Sora walked right past me. I looked right up at her, at her face, streaked with tears. She looked so old right then, much older than the fifty-three years I knew she should be. Or was that fifty-four? I'll have to ask somebody later. It wouldn't do to show that I couldn't remember my partner's name. I saw her then and I wanted so badly to fly out, into her arms, to be with her, to share that grief. I was grieving too, for I had liked Yamato a lot and Gabumon was my friend, if nothing else.

But then I caught a whiff of perfume, saw the shoes and jacket she wore that just oozed style, and remembered why I had left in the first place. That wasn't the girl I loved back there. That was the Sora who tried too hard. The one who changed too much for me to bear. That wasn't my partner, just a pathetic ghost of her former self.

How could I be so stupid?

I missed her and she missed me and we were both miserable without each other. When she needed me the most, when her children and her friends and the one she loved were all gone, I still held back. I still refused to forgive her for that stupid argument, still told myself that that wasn't the girl I wanted to be with, that if she'd wanted me she would have tried to find me again.

I was wrong, though. I was just kidding myself if I really thought that mattered. In my heart of hearts I knew that it was Sora I wanted to be with, any Sora, if only it could be her. I left her to wander the world once more, night after lonely night. I couldn't believe that it wasn't my fault that I was flying alone.

But one blessed morning, I got a second chance.

I woke from another miserable night in the darkness, willing myself to stir from my sleeping place. It was getting increasingly difficult to rouse myself in the mornings; it's a bit hard to get coffee out in the wild. It was a cold, cloudy morning, too, which made flying difficult. Eventually, though, I got into the air and resumed my aimless flight. I flew low to the ground, as it was difficult to fly high while in my Rookie form. I was envious when I saw an eagle in the sky as I bobbed and weaved through the forest.

I liked this forest, though. There was something comfortable about it, like I was slipping back into a part of the world that was custom-made for me. Like I belonged. It seemed so alive, even under the grey skies. I coasted through the trees as though I was being guided by an unseen force.

Then I found her.

Sora was sitting up in a tree, wearing a ragged pair of jeans and an old woollen jumper. No makeup, no perfume, no styling. She seemed different again from what I had seen at Yamato's funeral - younger, somehow. The Sora I remembered from long ago.

Suddenly I was tired of wandering, tired of constantly trying to stay away from her. I realised at once how stupidly I'd been acting for all these years. I went right up to her; I can't even remember what we said then. Words didn't matter, though. We were together again, after all this time. I digivolved into Birdramon and we flew right through the clouds, up into the sunlight.

The two of us have been busy today, making up for all the lost years. We talked and laughed, exchanged stories, reminisced. We cleaned out the house and did some baking. She told me about Midori's move to Kyoto and Toshio's job as a naturalist. I told her about the people I'd visited, and about Gomamon.

We've also talked about going to see the other Chosen Children again, reforging all those friendships. Sora even discussed another reunion, like the one we all had in 2027. We wouldn't all be together again - the group would never be complete without Yamato and Gabumon. Memories of them didn't have to be painful, though. They weren't painful, they were happy. Most of them, anyway. We didn't need to romanticise it all, turn it into a tale of pain and longing and regret. The true story is a happy one.

Just like ours has finally become.

A tiny wisp of a breeze wafts past us, touching my feathers as lightly as a tiny paintbrush. I barely felt it, really; it was nothing compared to what I had been through in recent years, huge gales that were more like brooms trying to sweep you out into the rubbish heap. It was just a touch, but I suddenly felt exhausted, yawning and blinking owlishly. Sora moved around uncomfortably, then leaned forward a little.

"Biyomon?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you think it's about time we went to sleep now?"

I looked at the moon again. It was lingering out towards the west now. Not that that was any indication of the time; the moon doesn't stick to the day-and-night regime that the sun does. It had been in sight since mid-afternoon.

"Yes, I think that would be good." I agreed. Sora hugged me to her and stood up, heading towards the house, to her room. I hesitated and fluttered out of her arms, looking back out at the veranda, and the sky beyond. Dark nights had been the norm for so long now; I wasn't quite ready to leave that wilderness. Almost - I'd sleep inside tomorrow - but not just yet.

"What's the hammock there for?" I asked.

"Sometimes in summer, when it gets really hot, I like to sleep out there," she told me. "It'd be a bit cold tonight, though."

"But you have some blankets, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," she nodded, with an affectionate smile.

It didn't take us long to drag out some blankets and a pillow. Sora climbed carefully into the hammock, wrapping the blankets around her. I curled up on her stomach before she threw a blanket over me, too. It felt strange, but not bad. I let it go.

The positions of the stars in the sky change throughout the year, because of Earth's rotation around the sun. The seasons in the northern and southern hemispheres are always different, because of the tilt of earth's axis. But the moon, though it waxes and wanes, looks the same from every single point on the globe. The moon floating in the dark sky now looks the same as the one I saw last night, when I was all alone. It's the one Gomamon and Palmon would be looking at right now. It's the same as the digidestined in other countries would see at night.

It would look the same if I was spending tonight alone in the woods, lost in the foreign world of night. But the darkness seems comfortable and familiar now. The moon shines on a happy pair, not a lost bird who cowers in fright and feels painfully alone.

Falling asleep, happy and content, knowing you're safe and you're loved. I don't ever want to spend the night alone again.


End file.
